A Damned Auction
by Noir Lime Canuto
Summary: "Hermione. The world is changing, I hope you can realize that. I mean, that's the reason the leg is so rare. No one is willing—much less permitted—to go out and do that anymore. You of all people should know, Hermione." .:Written for the Numerology Challenge and Magical Artifact Challenge, HG/TN, slightly AU future-fic, fun at the ministry:.


_Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, no copyright infringement is intended  
>Written for musefan929's Numerology Challenge and la z boy's Magical Artifact Challenge<em>

**A Damned Auction**

"Hermione, I don't know what choice you think I have."

"What choice you have? You're making your choice right now! The wrong one!"

"Hermione, we just don't have a lot of alternatives."

"Raise the estate tax again! What do the old pureblood families contribute anyway—besides you, of course, Theodore, but—"

"Hemione, I'm willing to forget you said that. But you have to listen to reason. It's not just about you and your department."

Hermione Granger had been leaning forward over the crowded desk, her hands placed flat down on either side of a shining plaque reading "Theodore Nott." Her face was currently unpleasant, twisted in frustration and not among the many beneficiaries of makeup. Her hair was held tight at the back of her head with a regiment of pins and a reluctant charm. She continued to stare him down, obviously swallowing her course retorts for his sake. Or maybe for the sake of her job, but she knew he'd never fire her.

At least, not according to office gossip. And maybe that was really why she was pushing this so hard. To prove she was part of this administration out of merit, not because of some petty school crush she'd never even known about.

Slowly, she withdrew until she was simply standing before his desk, arms crossed. She watched him, his hand finding its way into his hair as it always seemed to when he was under pressure. Which was practically always.

"You know, you'll end up with a bald spot there at this rate," she scolded softly, starting to regret getting so worked up at this obviously strained man.

"I'm already going grey," he replied with a shrug, removing his hand. "Then again, maybe the sheer presence of hair is all I've got going for me, huh?"

Hermione half-forced a chuckle. "Well, I wouldn't go that far, sir."

He smiled vaguely. "The Profit did, last week. It's a bit of a relief, actually. Maybe the reforms aren't so painful after all if their biggest criticism is that 'our dashing young prime minister is going grey already.'"

Hermione finally took the seat opposite his, a firm, oak craftsman chair.

"I'm sorry I raised my voice earlier."

"I know. It's fine."

"I just—I mean, it's barbaric. It should be burned, not auctioned."

"Hermione. The world is changing, I hope you can realize that. I mean, that's the reason the leg is so rare. No one is willing—much less permitted—to go out and do _that_ anymore. You of all people should know, Hermione."

Hermione sighed. "It's not about whether or not such—such _brutality_ still exists, Theodore. You know as well as I do that prejudice doesn't just disappear in a cloud of smoke. It takes a generation of adults deciding not to encourage it any more, to condemn it and all its artifacts. What does it say to the public if we, the ministry, sell off this horrid thing?"

His hand ran through his hair again. "It says we really are trying alternative budget methods," he answered calmly.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Theodore Nott opened it with a wave of his hand.

"I wasn't expecting you this early on, Potter, I apologize. Granger is still pleading her case, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you joined us."

"Of course not," Hermione agreed. She wished Harry and Theodore would just use first names, for Merlin's sake. To a degree, she understood. The Auror Department didn't work very closely with anyone else and generally corresponded with the top through owl. Still, it had been eight months since Theodore had entered office, and he'd started at the ministry around when Harry had, so it was about time the two of them lost the formalities. Merlin's socks, Theodore had even attended little James's second birthday last month. Though, then again, the Little Potions-Master kit he'd brought as a present didn't go over wonderfully, Harry had seemed more amused than anything at the time. Anyway, Hermione considered it a thoughtful present. If she ever ended up having kids, she wanted them starting ahead, too.

"I assume we're meeting about the Leg of Nessus?" Harry pulled up another craftsman chair, one of eight which had been standing by loyally against the back wall of the expansive office.

"That would be right," Theodore murmured with a nod.

"Well, I just don't think it would be right so sell it," Harry said, shaking his head. Hermione had begun to nod knowingly before stopping suddenly at Harry's next remark. "Besides the possibility of it falling into the wrong hands, we still have use for it here."

"Use it? You plan on using it?" Hermione looked at Harry with shock. She had known he was against auctioning it but had, perhaps wrongly, assumed that he was doing so because it was unethical. Of course, he may have been taking advantage of the obvious arguments against auctioning it off, but she could usually tell when he was lying and he seemed perfectly honest just then.

Harry frowned at her. "Look, I know you don't like it, Hermione, but the leg is invaluable. As soon as we can find the enchantment for using it… Look, imagine if we had had it back then. Think of—think of the number of lives we could have saved!"

"While we don't have the enchantment needed to use it, Potter, the ministry has known how to deactivate it for years. This hope you're holding onto, albeit admirable, is simply unrealistic. It's not doing anyone any good locked up in a vault and the revenue it would bring in is something your department would benefit from as much as the next." Theodore gestured gently with both hands open, as though both appealing to Harry's logic and offering him imaginary auction profits at one time.

Now, at this point in the conversation, Hermione could have shared with them the information that she had, in fact, stumbled across and translated ancient runes inside a cave in southern France which explained, in great detail, how one would go about using the Leg of Nessus. Since the ministry had not funded that excursion, however, they were in no way entitled to that information. Besides, the terms under which it could be used would hardly apply to most Auror department situations, and it's not as if every field agent could carry it everywhere. The third term of the leg was that it could never be duplicated by any magic or it would lose its power—clearly the only detail the ministry was aware of.

Instead of educating the two men on the leg's powers, Hermione focused on what was really important. "You realize it's not just the Nessus's leg they took," she spoke more quietly than earlier but just as severely. "They poured a potion on it that contained his blood, three powdered teeth, and strips of skin from his hind. They burned what was left of him, after they took his leg, on a pyre. Through all of this he was still _alive_, still conscious."

"Obviously no one disagrees that that's horrible, Hermione—"

"It's graphic and its history not but it's a history you're exploiting by benefitting from the leg, Harry. It's not like you've turned it into an optimistic umbrella stand. You'd be using it, or selling it," she shot a look at Theodore, who looked tired, "for the same purpose the witches and wizards who did that to him."

Theodore sighed. "Hermione, working in the British Ministry of Magic, I'm sure each and every one of us is already indirectly benefitting from countless injustices every day. I'm not saying it's right, but I'm not saying it's changeable. I'm—"

"Yes," Hermione interrupted hurriedly, "You're saying that the best we can do is to try to behave in ways that are within our means in this society that's already been built _I get that_."

Harry was now watching them, hands folded together, back against the chest of the chair.

"So you realize you're arguing something largely based on symbolism, nothing substantial."

"Theodore, when it comes to injustice symbolism is substantial. The ministry making a show of profiting off of the Leg of Nessus—it would be spitting in the face of years of diplomatic efforts on the part of the ministry. The centaurs aren't the easiest group to reach out to, and to alienate them at a time like this would be very unwise."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I understand where you're coming from, really I do, but I'm afraid lack of funding for programmes is really a greater threat right now."

"I guess that's it then," Harry said sharply, surprising both Theodore and Hermione by standing up calmly and returning his chair to the wall. "Minister," he nodded. "Hermione." With that, he left. There was a silence, during which the room's two remaining occupants stared at the doorframe Harry had disappeared into.

Hermione finally sighed in defeat. "Would you please owl the date of the announcement and auction to me by the end of the week, so we can at least deal with the fallout?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, Minister. I'll let you get back to your work, then." Hermione turned to go and made it as far as the doorframe.

"Hermione, wait."

"Yes?" She pivoted so that she could look back at him out of the sides of her eyes.

"I hope you haven't taken my decision personally."

"Not at all. I hope I haven't conducted myself unprofessionally?"

"It's your passion that makes you the most professional, Hermione. Even if you object to my means, I look forward to seeing what you can do with more department funding."

Hermione held her palms flat against the mug and brought her face close to the dark red-brown liquid inside of it. She exhaled deeply, air returning gently to her face in the form of steam. She set the mug back down on the table and closed her eyes. There was a sudden warm weightiness as an aging Crookshanks hopped into in her lap, and she started stroking the animal automatically while her mind strayed elsewhere.

1

the Leg of Nessus, when heated over a fire of oak, can turn water to blood;

2

the Leg of Nessus will stop time only in the places where the speaker of the enchantment has personally travelled in the past;

3

the Leg of Nessus will lose its power should an attempt be made to duplicate it magically;

4

the Leg of Nessus will only stop the hearts of male centaurs it physically contacts, not females;

5

the Leg of Nessus will not affect the speaker of the enchantment or any creature adorned with the Tunic of Nessus;

There were 9 terms under which the leg operated, but Hermione the other 4 were particulars to do with casting the enchantment that followed superstitions about the use of wands. These superstitions were peculiar to the Kazakh culture where centaurs had originated and were believed, long ago, to strengthen spells relating to centaurs even remotely. Recent studies published in the _Quibbler_ had proven this to be false, though.

The auction was tomorrow, and Theodore had sent her a formal invitation in what he probably thought was an empty gesture. The NorthSouth Sussex Auction House, she'd been there before for the liquidation of the Malfoy estates.

"Do I witness 1 billion galleons? One billion? Yes, you in th

Hermione's pulse rushed. She repeated the words again under her breath, eyes locked on the leg at the auctioneer's side. _Vertuntun sanguim, fiatignis sanguim, fiatcor tinci duntin ciduntutus solum_.

_Vertuntun sanguim, _

_ fiatignis sanguim, _

_ fiatcor tinci duntin _

_ ciduntutus solum_.

The auctioneer paused mid-sentence. The world around her paused mid-setence. A crowded auction, holding their breath. Hermione felt a strange thickness in the air that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Then her attention was again on the leg.

She could steal it. Explode it. Duplicate it. She could enchant it to dissolve into the new owner's hands three months from now. She could make it dissolve four years from now. Publish a study in advance warning that she'd discovered some sort of dissolving defect—they'd believe anything. She could even keep it.

But of course those plans were foolish.

An unrecorded side-effect of the leg was its ability to tempt those who sought to destroy it, a fact Hermione was unaware of.

It took only a moment. A moment of clarity, when everything else paused. Hermione realized she was being irrational, that she'd already lost.

_Perago cherim_.

e hat with the large bow!"

She watched the rest of the auction silently and apparated just as it finished, not bothering to see what the other items the ministry was selling would go for.

"Hermione, I think perhaps I've been less discrete than I could have recently."

"Oh?"

"I hope I haven't seemed to single you out at all—it hasn't been my intention to."

"I probably deserve it."

"Sorry, beg pardon?"

"Look, I noticed the trouble you went to to adjust the time back. It was only 5 seconds off, but pausing time in select areas, well, I can't imagine that was an easy fix."

"I worked on that myself, actually, but that wasn't really what I meant, Hermione."

"Oh. If you mean the budget, then, don't worry, if you think it was too generous I can adjust the suggested programmes for next year. The construction of the rehabilitation center for domestic elf refugees could be put off—"

"Put off? I thought it was a marvelous idea. The only problem is integrating them into a shrinking market. What I wanted to discuss, though, was actually less professional. That's the issue. I've wanted to ask you out for tea for ages, but I don't want you to confuse my praise for your work—all of which is entirely genuine, I assure you—with my personal feelings towards you."

"Tea?"

"If it's alright, I don't mean to be—"

"Sure." On the walk back to her office Hermione decided that she wasn't conforming to a dated stereotype if she'd been offered her boss's job about twelve times in that past six years.

**x**


End file.
